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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28328217">It’s The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Tomb_With_A_View/pseuds/A_Tomb_With_A_View'>A_Tomb_With_A_View</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>SonsetCurve’s holiday event 2020 [11]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Julie and The Phantoms (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Bobby calls Alex Allie cat because I said so, Bobby is smitten, Christmas baking, F/M, Fluff, I did not mean for the angst, It’s sunset curve not sunset straight, I’m not getting political about, I’m so sorry, M/M, but I am willing to throw hands, fluffy Christmas bonding, how we view Bobby, mostly - Freeform, ray is nervous, sunset curve being bros</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 17:54:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,660</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28328217</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Tomb_With_A_View/pseuds/A_Tomb_With_A_View</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Tell me again why we’re making sausage rolls for Christmas?” Alex asked, pulling a face as he poked a bag of sausage meat.</p><p>Julie shrugged. “It’s just what we’ve always done on Christmas Eve. Dad make sausage rolls, and we leave one, and a shot of Sherry by the fireplace, “for Santa.””</p><p>“Sherry?” Alex echoed, eyebrows practically in his hairline. “What happened to milk and cookies?” </p><p>“Dad prefers it,” she explained. “I think he kind of deserves it after a Christmas Eve of dealing with a hyper Carlos. Especially this year, now that he’s got four teenage ghosts to look after as well.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alex Mercer &amp; Julie Molina &amp; Luke Patterson &amp; Reggie Peters, Alex Mercer &amp; Ray Molina, Alex Mercer/Willie (Julie and The Phantoms), Bobby | Trevor Wilson &amp; Alex Mercer, Bobby | Trevor Wilson &amp; Alex Mercer &amp; Luke Patterson &amp; Reggie Peters, Julie Molina/Luke Patterson, Ray Molina &amp; Bobby | Trevor Wilson, carlos Molina &amp; Carrie Wilson &amp; flynn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>SonsetCurve’s holiday event 2020 [11]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2055348</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>70</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>331</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Christmas Eve will find me where the love light gleams</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi kids! This is being posted today because I baked everything yesterday (Christmas Eve) and finished at like midnight and could not be fucked to write, so I did it all today bc time management ftw<br/>This is for Day 11 of <a href="https://sonsetcurve.tumblr.com/">@sonsetcurve’s</a> Christmas event 2020, with the prompt being Christmas Eve</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Tell me again why we’re making sausage rolls for Christmas?” Alex asked, pulling a face as he poked a bag of sausage meat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Julie shrugged. “It’s just what we’ve always done on Christmas Eve. Dad make sausage rolls, and we leave one, and a shot of Sherry by the fireplace, “for Santa.””</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Sherry?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Alex echoed, eyebrows practically in his hairline. “What happened to milk and cookies?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dad prefers it,” she explained. “I think he kind of deserves it after a Christmas Eve of dealing with a hyper Carlos. Especially this year, now that he’s got four teenage ghosts to look after as well.”</span>
</p><p>“He does have help from Bobby,” Alex countered. “But, I guess, he also has an extra teenage girl to help with, too.” </p><p>
  <span>“Exactly.” She nodded. “Plus he’s nervous about impressing him, y’know? Sure, we’ve been planning to merge our Christmas Day basically since you guys made up with Bobby, but they only agreed to start dating like four days ago.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex nodded, scanning the recipe. “That makes sense. So, are you making these with me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Julie snorted. “Oh, definitely not. Dad should be down in ten minutes, I just figured I’d fill you in in case he forgets he didn’t actually raise you and that you don’t know this is the plan.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Awesome.” Alex glanced around the Wilson’s huge kitchen. “You have no idea how excited I am to cook in here. They have a </span>
  <em>
    <span>stand mixer.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>“You’re still gonna mix everything by hand, aren’t you?” She teased fondly, leaning into his side.</p><p>
  <span>Alex laughed. “You betcha, Julie-bean. Can’t trust all this new technology.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She rolled her eyes. “You can stop pretending like you’ve only been in the twenty first century for a day, Al. I’ve seen you use Bobby’s smart toaster.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve only figured out the toaster because it’s just really cool, okay?” Alex cracked. “It’s a toaster with a screen! It has different settings for different breads! My toaster barely had a heat dial. Reggie set your toaster on fire with a badly cut bagel!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>——</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Julie had predicted, Ray stumbled into the kitchen not ten minutes later, cheeks suspiciously pink. “Alex!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, dad.” Alex waved at him. “You ready to get started?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Give me two seconds,” he promised, raking a hand through his hair. “Did Jules catch you up on what we’re doing?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex nodded. “Sausage rolls, right? She showed me the recipe, but you’re gonna have to take the lead on this, I haven’t done loads of savoury stuff.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ray winced. “Oh, god.” </span>
</p><p>“It’ll be fine,” Alex said, waving a hand. “I mean, I hate being told what to do, so I might lose it slightly, but I’m sure it’ll be fine.” </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>god.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex snorted. “Right, so what do you want me to do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ray hummed and checked the recipe. “You can either look after the sausage meat or the pastry, you think the pastry will be more up your street?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, please,” Alex said. “What type of pastry? How much of everything do I need?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Flaky, I think. All you need to do is grate two hundred and twenty five grams of butter, frozen. Trev promised me it’s already in the freezer, weighed out, and then add three hundred and thirty grams of flour. Then just a bit of salt and water.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex nodded. “Sounds good, it shouldn’t take very long, and then you can tell me all about what happened after you kicked us out on Monday.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ray rolled his eyes. “Nothing you should be concerning yourself. Now move.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex busied himself with grabbing the butter then staring forlornly at the grater. “I have to grate all of this? I mean… that’s a lot of butter.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, you chose pastry, mijo,” Ray reminded him from the counter, where he was chopping an onion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… I know…” He sighed and weighed out the flour quickly, before sitting down to start grating. “So, c’mon, you gotta tell me </span>
  <em>
    <span>something.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Ray shrugged as he finished chopping. “We literally just said we were in a similar position, that we’re both willing to see where this goes, and then he kissed me. Not everybody has some grand romance with saving each others’ souls or bringing music back to each other.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I dunno,” Alex said, arms already aching from grating. “You came back to each other, despite the ghost teenagers you adopted turning out to be his dead best friends, despite having built lives apart, despite having fallen in love with other people. Sure it’s not some rollercoaster, all-consuming love affair, sure he’s not the love of your life, but you love him enough to try again after Rose, and he loves you enough to trust that you’ll balance her memory with him. That sounds like a pretty grand romance to me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alex, I mean this with all the love in the world, but I need you to shut up, because otherwise I will start crying, and neither of us want that,” Ray warned him, heating up a cube of butter in a small saucepan. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s fair,” Alex agreed, groaning when the butter didn’t magically grate itself in the second he looked away to smile at Ray. “I’ve never baked on Christmas Eve before.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ray shot him a grateful smile at the obvious change in subject, then turned back to tipping his onion into the pan. “How come? I would’ve thought that would be your ideal Christmas activity.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex shrugged, putting the grater and butter down for a moment to give his arms a breather. “My family didn’t really celebrate Christmas as anything other than a religious observance. I didn’t mind, I enjoyed it all when I was younger, but we spent most of the day with my extended family preparing for the meal and for mass.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, that’s cool,” Ray said. “Do you still believe?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I…” Alex laughed awkwardly. “I have no idea. Nothing makes sense to me anymore. I don’t know if I do half the stuff I do out of genuine belief, or out of habit.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ray nodded, stirring in salt and pepper. “I guess being what you are makes it a little hard to prove either way, huh?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right!” Alex waved his hands around emphatically. “Like, sure, I’m not in </span>
  <em>
    <span>heaven, </span>
  </em>
  <span>so that kind of disproves that theory, but also I’m not in hell, and y’know, I’ve definitely considered that my mom and dad might’ve been right, so it’s not that either, but I’m pretty sure this isn’t nirvana or purgatory, I haven’t been reincarnated, but also I still </span>
  <em>
    <span>exist. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And I can’t think of any religion or teaching that explains ghost-ness, but it seems kinda fake that it’s just the - the laws of energy, or something, that determines becoming a ghost and passing over?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keep grating,” Ray reminded him quietly, but waved for him to continue as he grabbed a couple jars of herbs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A-and, and, no one explains whether our energy is different or something when we’ve completed our unfinished business, or-or if it changes when we learn to interact with things, or why some, or why some ghosts have powers like Caleb’s, when some of us are still not always even corporeal,” Alex continued rambling, and obediently started grating again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ray blinked. “I hadn’t even thought of any of that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex snorted. “Yeah, overthinking is kind of my jam.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your last date involved haunting an abandoned theme park, and you freaked yourself out so much that Willie thought you were having a heart attack, even though you’re dead,” Ray said flatly. “You simultaneously overthink and </span>
  <em>
    <span>under</span>
  </em>
  <span>think everything. It’s incredible.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, well.” Alex tugged his hood up to hide how red he knew he’d probably gone. “No one asked.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Such disrespect,” he teased. “Now, are you almost done with the butter?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex sighed. “Yeah. My arms are dying, though.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ray laughed, “You’re a drummer, you’re getting no sympathy from me,” he said as he brought the pan off the hob, tipping the contents into a bowl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex made a pathetic whining sound as he finished the last of the grating. “Oh my god, this feels so gross.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you could’ve just chopped and cooked some onions,” Ray reminded him as he handed him a palette knife. “I’m assuming you know what you’re doing, here?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I couldn’t, I cry so much when I cut onions. I always get Reg to do it for me, ‘cause for some reason he’s absolutely fine. And yeah, I know what happens now,” Alex said, grabbing the knife. “So, what are the plans for tomorrow?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ray tapped the back of his head lightly, mimicking a cuff round the head. “Nice try, niño.” Then, “wait, doesn’t Reggie empathy cry?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex nodded. “Oh, yeah. But onion tears and emotion tears are chemically different so I guess he just doesn’t produce onion tears, or something.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think that’s a thing, ‘Lex. Though, cool fact.” </span>
</p><p>“Reggie told me that,” Alex admitted, slowly mixing in the flour and butter. “Plus it was mentioned in that Disney film with the guy who looks like Willie in it. Descendants? Can I have a tablespoon of cold water please?” </p><p>
  <span>Ray squinted. “Isn’t Descendants the one that Carlos and Carrie prepared a PowerPoint presentation about? Something about how you can’t overcome sixteen years of indoctrination with two weeks of reluctant and vaguely deceitful love and affection scattered in amongst bullying and mistrust?” He handed over a small jug of water and measuring spoons. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex nodded and did his best to sprinkle the water in instead of just pouring it in. “Yeah. It was a pretty in depth presentation. I remember there being a break for Flynn to rant about how much she hates it when a film or show is supposedly about a group but is clearly actually about one person.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That does sound like Flynn,” Ray agreed. “She’s got an intro to anarchy presentation lined up for when Carlos turns fifteen, which is the age i've decided he can have an anarchy phase.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not gonna be an anarchy phase,” Alex said slowly, pulling a face as he started kneading the pastry by hand. “You know that, right? You tell that child about rejection of involuntary authority, and he’s gonna tell his teachers that he refuses to do what he doesn’t want to do, because he’s an anarchist, and he’s gonna be hooked.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh shit,” Ray breathed. “It’s not gonna be an anarchy phase, is it?.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely not. It’s like how we thought Reg would have an eyeliner phase, and now he takes online makeup classes with Flynn and Julie,” Alex explained. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ray laughed and nodded. “Yeah, fair enough. Did you see the little butterflies he did on Julie’s eyeliner for your photo thingy last week, though? He’s a talented kid.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex smiled proudly at the ball of pastry finally coming together. “‘Course he is. ‘S long as you don’t make him write, or read a room, there’s just about nothing he can’t do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Except bake, apparently,” Ray joked. “You can put that in a freezer bag, now.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex shook his head. “Don’t even get me started on the horrors of Reg in a kitchen, I have been </span>
  <em>
    <span>scarred</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” He grabbed a freezer bag out of the drawer and put the dough in. “Can I put this anywhere in the freezer? Carrie seems like she probably panic-organises.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ray shrugged. “It’s only gonna be in there for half an hour so I’m pretty sure it’ll be fine.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When Carrie destroys my soul for ruining her perfectly organised fridge, will you tell Luke that he’s a little bitch at least once a day in my place?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely not, mijo.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... yeah that’s probably fair.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>——</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alex… ‘Lex, man, c’mon, you gotta wake up…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex groaned and tugged a pillow over his eyes. “No, go away. I’m sleeping.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bobby snorted. “Get up, Allie-cat. Ray says the pastry and the sausage meat are ready to go.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, nobody's called me that in… shit, twenty five years, I guess.” Alex sat up, rubbing his eyes. “Can’t he make them by himself?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course he can, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>wants</span>
  </em>
  <span> to make them with you, though. Let him pass on a tradition,” Bobby said gently. “Now go, dipshit.” </span>
</p><p>Alex sighed and stood up. “I’m going, I’m going,” he muttered, stumbling into the kitchen.</p><p>
  <span>Ray whistled lowly. “Wow, you look terrible.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, dad.” Alex nodded, grabbing the pastry out of the freezer. “Appreciate it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anytime, kiddo, anytime. Now, can you roll that out for me? Don’t worry about straight lines, we can trim it as and when,” Ray instruction. “We’ll be all done in twenty minutes.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex grabbed a bag of flour out of the cupboard. “How thin do you want it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Couple millimetres, max.” Ray grabbed the sausage meat out of the fridge and started mixing it in with the onions he’d cooked earlier. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Comin’ right up,” Alex said, scattering flour over a chopping board and putting the pastry ball on it. “Where do you think he puts the rolling pins?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ray shrugged. “Want me to ask?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bobby cleared his throat from the doorway. “In the third draw down, under the microwave, Lexi.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex jumped, and clutched his chest, breathing heavily. “Jesus </span>
  <em>
    <span>Christ, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Robert, why the fuck are you like this?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m hungry,” Bobby said, shrugging. “Plus I heard screaming from Carrie’s room, so I’m gonna take them all hot chocolate and check nobody’s been murdered on her new rug.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not… okay.” Alex grabbed the rolling pin, which was exactly where he’d said it would be. “Twenty bucks says Luke accidentally insulted Flynn, Carrie started laughing, and now Julie is torn between her boyfriend and her best friend, Reggie is about to leave and come here to escape the yelling, and Carlos is just making the chaos worse, and Willie is watching and eating popcorn. Tía has lost it and is drinking wine in the bath.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bobby hummed. “Fifty bucks says Reggie was the one to insult Flynn, but he meant it as a compliment, Julie is ready for murder, and Luke is ready to sacrifice himself for Reg. Care and Carlos are determining fighting stats, no change to Willie and Vic.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ray cleared his throat. “Trev, hot chocolate, get moving. Alex, you have pastry to roll out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pair of them glanced at each other sheepishly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, dad.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, Ray.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex started rolling his pastry out, watching out of the corner of his eye as Bobby kissed Ray’s cheek as he moved past, tray of mugs in hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once Bobby had finally left, ceramic clinking alarmingly as he attempted to carry out seven mugs near-full of hot chocolate and marshmallows, and Alex had managed to get his pastry into a rough rectangle, he turned to Ray, grinning. “So, you and Bobbers seem pretty cozy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ray rolled his eyes and gently nudged Alex out of the way. “If you keep pushing, I’m banning all displays of romantic affection until Boxing Day.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You realise if you ban me from kissing Willie, I’m just gonna reinstate Sunset Curve makeouts? Except Bobby because… y’know… we’re dead… He’s forty two.” Alex hopped up to sit on the table, swinging his legs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ray choked on air. “You’re going to reinstate Sunset Curve </span>
  <em>
    <span>whatnows?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex shrugged, “there was as this weird period of time where Reg and Luke wanted to practice kissing, and Bobby was the only one who’d actually done it, and this was during the period where I had a huge crush on Bobby, but like, Luke and Reggie are cute guys, and… yeah, I think you can see where this is going. It lasted for like, five weeks, before Luke started seeing this girl. I’m not proud of it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, so… no banning romantic displays of affection.” Ray nodded and started spooning sausage mix onto the pastry. “Got it. How about no attempting to dissect my </span>
  <em>
    <span>very new </span>
  </em>
  <span>relationship, or I’m suggesting to Flynn that you need a new style.” </span>
</p><p>“My SnapBack…” Alex whispered, horrified. “You want Flynn to steal my SnapBack?” </p><p>
  <span>Ray shrugged, shooting him a teasing smile. “It’s very nineties, is all I’m saying, mijo. Can you get me a little bowl of milk?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m </span>
  </em>
  <span>very nineties!” Alex protested, pouring out a little bit of milk and handing it to Ray. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know that, and I love you,” Ray assured him fondly as he finished making sure the sausage meat was in a good shape. “Now, I need to roll this, so can you daub milk on the inside of the pastry as I go? It’ll make it stick better.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex nodded and leaned over, dipping two fingers in the milk. “Hey… um. I know I’ve been prodding you about it a lot, but I really am glad you worked it out with Bobby. You guys seem really happy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, Alex,” Ray said. “That means a lot. It’s just daunting, I guess. I don’t want to cross any boundaries with you three.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex waved him off, daubing milk onto the pastry as Ray started to roll it up. “Crossing boundaries happens all the time. We’ll tell you when it happens, and you’re awesome, so it’ll be fine.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You boys are getting so wise,” Ray sniffed dramatically, “get me a knife, please. Hopefully you’ll get so wise that you stop falling out of the window at three at because you were trying to climb onto the roof.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The stars were pretty, okay?” Alex complained as he handed him a knife. “Stargazing is supposed to be romantic.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alex… mijo.” Ray brushed a kiss against Alex’s temple fondly and started cutting the roll into individual slices. “You can teleport.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex sighed and nodded,  moving away to rifle through the cupboard under the sink for baking paper. “I can see why that might come across as  a stupid thing to do.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ray snorted and daubed milk across the top of each sausage roll. “Oh, really?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, at the time, climbing onto the roof was part of the date, right?” He started standing up once he’d found the baking paper, and slammed his head into the top of the cupboard. “Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>shit.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>“Alex?” </p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine, I’m fine. Just briefly forgot I don’t have a body,” Alex reassured him, tearing off a strip of paper. “Sense memory, y’know?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ray shook his head. “I have no idea. You’re sure you’re okay?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex nodded and did his best to fit the paper into the baking dish. “God, I hate parchment paper.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s the worst,” Ray agreed, carefully laying each sausage roll down. Once he’d finished and they’d slid the dish into the oven, he grinned up at Alex. “We did good, you can go nap, now.” </span>
</p><p><span>“I am gonna sleep for a </span><em><span>year</span></em><span>.</span> <span>But… thanks, for sharing your tradition with me. I enjoyed it,” Alex mumbled into Ray’s shoulder as he hugged him tightly for a minute before poofing out. </span></p><p>
  <span>——</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, kids, everybody get one present, a sausage roll, and a mug of hot chocolate!” Ray called once they’d finished with dinner, standing next to a stack of saucers and a collection of mugs. “No opening them until everyone is sat down. Flynn, can you text your mom and check she’s still okay to pick you up in two hours?”</span>
</p><p>“She says that’s perfect, Ray,” Flynn called, swiping a plate on her way past to nab the armchair.</p><p>
  <span>Luke groaned and grabbed a plate and mug. “Will someone pick a present for me? There’s so many and I wanna open </span>
  <em>
    <span>all </span>
  </em>
  <span>of them.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Big or small?” Carrie asked, crouching in front of the tree. “We always do a small present on Christmas Eve, but we can do big if that’s what you usually do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Small, please.” Luke put the plate and cup down on a coffee table, then threw himself onto the sofa to catch the box she threw. He quickly moved to make space for Julie when she raised an eyebrow at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex grabbed a small, soft package, then half laid on the loveseat, holding an arm out to Willie, who quickly curled up against him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We all ready?” Bobby asked once everyone had sat down, legs thrown over Ray’s lap. “Youngest first, right?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s me!” Carlos grinned, tearing open the infra-red camera the three boys had all chipped into to get him. “Oh my god! Is this…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reggie ruffled his hair. “Carlos the Ghost Toaster is gonna be </span>
  <em>
    <span>huge, </span>
  </em>
  <span>little man.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, Reg,” Carlos mumbled, leaning against him. “And Lexi and Luke, I’m assuming?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carrie coughed. “My turn.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex watched nervously as she unwrapped one of the few things he’d “bought” by himself - a neat plaid scarf and scrunchie set he’d seen when he and Willie had visited New York, but relaxed when she beamed at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quickly they moved through Flynn, who opened a set of earring Julie had made for her, then Julie (a Beyoncé vinyl, to go with the vinyl player Bobby had gotten her for tomorrow), Luke (a guitar strap embroidered with the Julie and the Phantoms logo from Flynn), Alex (a new SnapBack that said pride in rainbow on the front from Carlos) and Reggie (a t shirt that said warrior with a purple ribbon for the a from Julie). Willie went after Reggie, despite his insistence that he was at least twenty years older than Tía Victoria (box of artisanal chocolates from Bobby) who went after him, and he looked touched at the knitted cropped sweater Reggie had gotten him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they got to Bobby, he tried to wave them off, insisting that the adults didn’t need to go, even though Victoria had just gone, but Luke shot that one down pretty quickly, “You’re three months younger than me, Bobbers, open your present.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bobby sighed, but carefully pried open his parcel to reveal a set of bracelets similar to the ones Reggie always wore. “Reg?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reggie shrugged. “You got me these to match yours at the time. You’ve outgrown them, but I think it’s time we match again, man.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, kiddo,” Bobby told him sincerely, snorting when Reggie reminded him that he was technically the oldest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now for Ray,” Carrie announced, smiling smugly. “Everyone else should just give up and go home.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh god,” Ray muttered as he unwrapped an apron with a picture of Ray looking annoyed, Alex and Reggie photoshopped under each arm, with text above saying “Don’t look at me or my son or my son ever again.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey!” Luke protested. “Where am I?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ray raised an eyebrow. “Have you proposed to my daughter, yet?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex choked on his hot chocolate. “Oh my god, this is happening.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Willie snorted. “Watch Luke turn around and propose right now.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As predicted, Luke started to slide off the sofa, but Flynn grabbed his collar. “Boy, don’t you </span>
  <em>
    <span>dare</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Julie deserves at </span>
  <em>
    <span>least </span>
  </em>
  <span>a Tiffany engagement ring, and you’re not carrying that kind of cash yet.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, no proposing to Julie until you’ve had some very in depth conversations with her,” Ray decided. “But thank you very much, Carrie. This is... the </span>
  <em>
    <span>best </span>
  </em>
  <span>thing I’ve ever seen.” </span>
</p><p>“Merry Christmas Eve, everyone,” Julie called, raising her mug in a toast.</p><p>
  <span>Alex grinned and raised his in time with everyone else, warmth bubbling up in his chest. “Merry Christmas Eve.” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Merry Christmas, Everyone</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Alex wasn’t sneaking around. </p><p>He really wasn’t. </p><p>Sure, it wasn’t his house, and it was five am, and he was utilising his occasional lack of corporeality to make as little sound as possible, but he wasn’t sneaking around, he was just… being politely quiet. </p><p>And, yeah, maybe he planned on using the kitchen, which probably could be categorised under sneaking around behaviour, but in a house the size of Bobby’s, he could probably play the Moby Dick drum solo on the pots and pans in there, and no one would notice.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This was not supposed to be a angsty I swear <br/>I’ve just become very opinionated on Bobby recently (as anyone who has seen my tumblr prolly knows lol) <br/>But yeah! Have some Alex &amp; Bobby bonding because I love them and enjoy day twelve of <a href="https://sonsetcurve.tumblr.com/">@sonsetcurve’s</a> Christmas event 2020, with the prompt being Christmas Day</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Alex wasn’t sneaking around. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He really wasn’t. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sure, it wasn’t his house, and it was five am, and he was utilising his occasional lack of corporeality to make as little sound as possible, but he wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>sneaking </span>
  </em>
  <span>around, he was just… being politely quiet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And, yeah, maybe he planned on using the kitchen, which probably could be categorised under sneaking around behaviour, but in a house the size of Bobby’s, he could probably play the Moby Dick drum solo on the pots and pans in there, and no one would notice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alex?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jesus </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking </span>
  </em>
  <span>Christ!” Alex yelped, scrambling back until he hit a wall. “Bobby? Again? Seriously? What are you even doing here?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bobby snorted and flicked on the kitchen light. “This may have escaped your notice, Allie-cat, but this is </span>
  <em>
    <span>my </span>
  </em>
  <span>house.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is </span>
  <em>
    <span>my </span>
  </em>
  <span>house,” Alex mocked, pulling a face. “Yeah, but I don’t physically need sleep, what’s your excuse?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am an incredibly traumatised rockstar with a teenage daughter,” Bobby said flatly. “Plus, this is my first time sharing a bed with someone in, like, seven years, so it’s a little weird.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex nodded slowly, eyebrows raised. “Gotta give you that one, man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bobby grinned and sat cross legged on the kitchen table, cradling a steaming mug of coffee. “So, what’re you doing in the kitchen, instead of being cuddled up with Mr Skateboard?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cinnamon rolls,” Alex declared. He didn’t really know if Bobby would remember this particular “tradition”. It wasn’t really a tradition, after all, even though they had planned on it becoming one. Alex had only stayed with Bobby and his family for two Christmases, and at six in the morning the first year, Bobby had pestered and pestered until Alex had finally agreed to sneak into the kitchen to bake cinnamon rolls. The next year, Alex had tentatively declared it his first Christmas tradition, and they’d done the same again, with the expectation of keeping it going. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Technically, by doing it on his first Christmas since then, he was continuing it, but he honestly didn’t know if he’d rather Bobby had done it without him, or forgotten about it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bobby smiled sadly into his coffee. “I didn’t wanna ask, in case you didn’t want to…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have…” Alex cleared his throat. “Did you do it without me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not ‘til Carrie,” Bobby admitted, laughing weakly. “Fuck, it took that long for me to even be able to casually mention you guys, without breaking down. When she was born… she’s always known about you guys, and, I knew if I wanted to do anything, I was gonna do this.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh… is she, is she expecting to make them with you? Because if you want to, I can, um. I can go back to bed, if you were gonna do them with Carrie?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bobby rolled his eyes. “Shut the fuck up and sit down, Mercer. She’s never done these once in her life, because I accidentally convinced her when she was four that uncle Alex, Reggie and Luke were her fairy god-musicians, and she refuses to believe that they’re not magically made each Christmas by some ghost drummer.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex blinked. “You convinced her that me, Reg and Luke are spiritual entities that have been gently helping her out from the sidelines?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lexi, kid, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>are </span>
  </em>
  <span>a spiritual entity,” Bobby reminded him, flicking his forehead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well yeah, I am </span>
  <em>
    <span>now. </span>
  </em>
  <span>But you didn’t know we’d end up being ghosts, how did that even come up?” Alex asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bobby shrugged, smile dimming a little. “I had a couple photos. The Polaroids we took, that you asked me to look after, ‘cause Reg spilled soda on your fanny pack. She found ‘em, along with our demo, and she wanted to know who you were.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex choked on air. “You didn’t want to explain death to her, and ended up saying we’d passed onto another world, and she guessed fairies?” He guessed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ha ha, laugh it up,” Bobby muttered, cheeks red. “So, anyways. She has no idea that I actually have to get up at the asscrack of dawn to make these sons’ a’ bitches, but now I have a helper, with the arms of a drummer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... you’re gonna make me knead the dough, aren’t you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah, Allie-cat.” Bobby nodded, grinning. “Oh, yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex sighed. “Fine. You remember what to do, or do you need a recipe?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, no.” Bobby held his hands up in surrender. “A, I’ve made these far too many times not to have pretty much memorised the recipe, and B, Ray says you usually take charge in the kitchen, which surprises me not in the slightest, so take centre stage.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okie dokie.” Alex nodded. “Can you get all the dry ingredients out? I’ll microwave the milk and melt the butter.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aye aye, cap’n,” Bobby joked, starting to rifle through the cupboards. </span>
</p><p>Alex grabbed a weighing scale, then paused and turned to Bobby. “How many grams of melted butter is in a cup?” </p><p>
  <span>Bobby pulled a face. “Do I look like Reg to you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You wish you looked as good as Reggie right now, mr going-on-forty-three. Seriously, though. Do the google, or whatever.” Alex waved a hand imperiously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who, of me and Regie, has a boyfriend?” Bobby reminded him, tapping something into his phone. “Fifty seven grams.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex shuddered. “That’s such an unsatisfying number of,” he mumbled, slicing butter up until he had the right amount, then tipped it into a pan. “Why fifty seven? That’s the worst.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bobby shrugged. “Are you seriously asking me why sixty-something millilitres of butter weighs fifty seven grams? I don’t have a clue, ‘Lex.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is why mom doesn’t fucking love you,” he quoted under his breath as he turned the heat up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bobby choked on his coffee, coughing dramatically for at least a minute. “Mom didn’t love me because I didn’t come out of the womb with a black Amex card, man, we’ve been over this,” he said when he’d finally caught his breath, voice raspy. “And who the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck </span>
  </em>
  <span>let you see Vines?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex grinned over his shoulder, then measured out three quarter cups of milk into a mug. “Julie showed Reg.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Julie, Julie, Julie,” Bobby sighed. “Where did we go wrong, huh? Doesn’t she know not to show idiot teenage ghosts Vine?” </span>
</p><p>“Obviously not.” Alex shrugged, putting the mug in the microwave, then returning to the pan of butter, which had begun to melt. “So, c’mon, man. What did you get dad for Christmas?” </p><p>
  <span>Bobby shrugged nervously. “How much flour? And, uh. All your presents are kind of linked to his? I got him a bunch of experience days: a baking masterclass at CulinaryLab to do with you, a lecture called Fundamental Bound On Time Signal Generation for him to go to with Reg, Elemer Bernstein’s Guitar Concerto for with Luke, a Derek Boshier Life Drawing masterclass for him to do with Julie, and a Winter Camp thing at Mad Science Los Angeles for Carlos.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Woah, Bobbers…” Alex breathed, turning the heat off and grabbing the milk out of the microwave. “Three cups of bread flour, but we don’t add that yet, and can you add two and a quarter teaspoons of active yeast into the milk while I get an egg and a yolk? They sound awesome, he’s gonna love that. So am I, by the way, CulinaryLab is awesome, Carlos showed me some stuff of theirs a few weeks ago.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bobby grinned shakily and did as Alex asked, pouring the mug of milk and yeast into a mixing bowl. “You think?” He asked. “I’m just. What if he thinks it’s too much?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex sat down to crack the eggs. “You got him experience days with his kids, man. The cost of each present can be halved, so it’s not technically as much, because it’s for both of us.” </span>
</p><p>“That was my thinking,” Bobby agreed, adding the sugar. “What about you, huh? What’d you get Willie?” </p><p>
  <span>“Uh… nothing special?” Alex said slowly, feeling his cheeks burn. “Just…heheh… um. I may have stolen a skateboard?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alex!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And..” he laughed awkwardly. “It may have been signed by Tony Hawk?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bobby sat down heavily. “I think you’re my hero, man. So spill, tell me the story?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex shrugged, pouring in the melted butter. “So, I know he’s not gonna use it to skate, right? Because his is like, super sentimental and that, but I’ve decided the room you gave us tonight is now </span>
  <em>
    <span>ours, </span>
  </em>
  <span>since you’re basically my new stepdad and all, and like… I’ve got all my clothes, and random shit I left in your garage - y’know, all my worldly possessions - and he doesn’t really have any of that. So I thought he could maybe hang it up or something? I know that’s a thing people do.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aw, Al, that’s really sweet.” Bobby nudged his shoulder against Alex’s, before starting to mix everything in. “How’d you steal it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I stole the skateboard just from some store Willie likes, but I did leave cash for them, and then I left the skateboard on Tony Hawk’s desk with a note “from his PA” asking him to sign it for someone,” Alex explained, grabbing the the measuring cup and the bread flour. “Think that’s ready?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bobby raised both eyebrows. “Damn, kid. That’s smart of you. And yeah, it looks good to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex snorted. “Flynn and Carrie told me how to do it, I didn’t think of that myself,” he admitted, scooping in three cups of flour. “Ugh, I have to knead this now, don’t I?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yup.” Bobby nodded, resuming his position on the table; cross legged and nursing his coffee. “Get to it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hate you,” Alex muttered, sprinkling flour over a chopping board. “So much.” He grudgingly kneaded the dough until it formed a ball he could tip onto the board. “How long?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eight minutes,” Bobby said. “Eight glorious minutes of me </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>killing my arms.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m gonna kill you with fire,” Alex informed him pleasantly as he started kneading properly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>——</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m actually dying, Robert, and it’s all your fault,” Alex complained just as Bobby’s alarm started going off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Willie cleared his throat from the doorway. “Isn’t five thirty am a little early for torture?” He asked, voice thick with sleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re baking cinnamon rolls,” Alex told him, smiling fondly. “You been up long?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah, only just woke up.” Willie peered over his shoulder, wrapping his arms around Alex’s waist. “Looks awesome, baby.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex felt his cheeks flush, and leant back into his hold. “Apparently Carrie thinks I’m a magical fairy godmother who makes these for her every Christmas, and Bobby is taking the chance to not knead dough for ten minutes,” he explained. </span>
</p><p>Bobby coughed. “As disgustingly adorable as this is, and honestly, Al, I’m so happy you’re happy, you’re stood in front of the cupboard with the oil and the cling film in, which I need for the proving.” </p><p>
  <span>“Right,” Alex said, waiting from Willie to let go before grabbing the sunflower oil and cling film and passing them to Bobby, then hopped up to sit on the counter, pulling Willie between his legs and hooking his chin over Willie’s shoulder. “Here, man.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bobby quickly greased up the bowl, then motioned for Alex to toss the dough ball, catching it with practiced ease before putting it in the bowl, which he wrapped in cling film. “So, we have an hour and a half for this to prove, what should we do?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex shrugged. “We could watch a film? These will need to prove for another half hour after we’ve made the rolls, and then bake for the same again, so we’ll have time to finish it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds good,” Willie agreed, leaning back. “What film?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bobby raised his hand. “What about Noelle? It’s this Christmas film Carrie watched with Kayla and that last week, she recommended it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds like a plan to me.” Alex nodded. “We’ll grab duvets  and that, you make coffee for everyone?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bossed around in my own fucking home,” Bobby muttered, standing up to grab mugs Anyways. “What has the world come to?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>——</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex sniffled and pulled Willie closer. “That baby reindeer is literally the cutest thing I have ever seen in my life, including Luke and Reggie </span>
  <em>
    <span>and Carlos </span>
  </em>
  <span>pouting at the same time.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Same,” Willie agreed, eyes wide. “It’s so small, and excited. I’ve never wanted a dog more in my entire existence than I do right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bobby laughed, though his eyes were suspiciously shiny. “There aren’t ghost dogs?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Willie waved his hand back and forth. “Kinda? But there’s shelter-esque things, like Caleb’s places but instead of the malicious soul-stealing gig, it’s just some nice ghost-folk who look after ghost dogs until a ghost decides they want a dog.” </span>
</p><p>“There’s ghost dogs?” Alex echoed. “Little dog souls who’re waiting for their owner? Oh my god, Willie, please don’t tell me their unfinished business is to see their owner again?” </p><p>
  <span>Willie shrugged weakly. “I don’t know, but I’m never gonna be able to look at a ghost dog ever again, thanks, bro.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They watched in near-silence as Noelle found Jake and Alex, and then slowly built a relationship, and at the end, when Michelle signed </span>
  <em>
    <span>Merry Christmas, Santa, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and the rest of the shelter joined in, Alex didn’t even try to pretend he wasn’t crying, and looking around showed Bobby and Willie were in similar positions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t even cry at movies,” Bobby insisted, laughing wetly, “why is a little girl calling the first female Santa Santa, after a night of her fucking up leaving me in tears?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Willie shrugged, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of Alex’s hoodie. “I don’t know, man, but I’m right here with you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex giggled helplessly. “Bobby, you-you’re supposed to be the emotionally av-available one, you should know-know why it’s got, it’s got us all.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, fuck off.” Bobby rolled his eyes fondly. “None of us are actually emotionally intelligent, you three are just dumb as fuck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tía asked if you had plans for Ray, and you asked if you’d forgotten his birthday,” Willie reminded him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s very true, and I appreciate the spine.” Bobby grinned. “You might be my favourite of all of Alex’s boyfriends. Including Luke.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>——</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dibs not rolling out the dough!” Alex called as soon as the alarm went off. “Also, Willie, bro, you can stay here if you want, we’ll be back in ten minutes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Willie nodded, shuffling until his weight was no longer pressed against Alex’s side and yawning. “Might nap,” he admitted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bobby raised an eyebrow in question. “I thought you guys don’t sleep?” He asked as he stood up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex shrugged and stood up as well. “It’s psychosomatic, probably, according to Flynn.” He laid a blanket of Willie carefully, kissing his forehead before straightening up. “Let’s go?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know you can stay in there with him, if you want?” Bobby asked as he led them through, taking the cling film off. “This looks good, man.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex peered over his shoulder. “We did good, Bob-o. And yeah, of course I know. But baking time is bonding time, and as much as we’ve been catching up, I still didn’t see you for </span>
  <em>
    <span>twenty five years</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I maybe didn’t know it, but I’ve missed you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve missed you too, ‘Lex. Definitely more than those two chucklefucks,” he joked, slapping the dough down onto the chopping board. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re so full of shit, bro. One of us shouldn’t be without the others for too long. You know that,” Alex said gently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bobby nodded for a moment, needlessly squeezing the dough. “Then. I know I’m being stupid here, but humour me. Why did you take so long to reach out? I know you left that code, I know I knew you were around, but I spent twenty five </span>
  <em>
    <span>years </span>
  </em>
  <span>without you. All I knew was that you’d found me and </span>
  <em>
    <span>left </span>
  </em>
  <span>again, for months, up until I found out you’d been living in my old place with my late best friend’s family. I just… if I’d have been you, I would’ve done anything to see you guys again.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex winced and carefully moved to hold Bobby’s hand, waiting until he put the dough down before pulling him in for a hug. “I guess we were just angry, man. I’m… I didn’t even think of it like that, I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>sorry. Luke… we thought you’d taken Luke’s chance at his parents knowing his dream was worth it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t... I didn’t really </span>
  <em>
    <span>take</span>
  </em>
  <span> anything, though,” Bobby said into his shoulder. “I mean... I-I helped write those songs, I put the same sweat and tears into perfecting those harmonies and altering those rhymes, I shredded my fingers rehearsing just as of-often, I don’t understand why I “stole” them, when if you’d used ‘em, or Reg had used them, or Luke had used them, we’d talk about them living out our dream? Carrying on our legacy?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex felt his heart plummet into his stomach, and he practically tripped over himself trying to get something out. “No, no, Bobby-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bobby forged on anyway. “I just, I guess… I know you three have always been crazy weird with each other, and I know it’s stupid to be crying about it after twenty five years of therapy and healing and whatever, but I always thought it was the </span>
  <em>
    <span>four </span>
  </em>
  <span>of us being crazy weird. I didn’t - I don’t…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We were just grieving, man,” Alex explained to him gently after he’d had a moment to gather his thoughts, though it was kind of ruined by how shot his voice was from being forced out around the lump in his throat. “I know that’s a shitty excuse, and I’m so fucking sorry for how we went about it, but we didn’t… I guess we didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>see </span>
  </em>
  <span>you mourn us. We woke up one day and we’d lost everything but each other and a week or two later we find out that you’ve recorded the songs we wrote together? It didn’t. We couldn’t match it with everything we were going through. We didn’t think.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… that. Yeah, that makes sense,” Bobby agreed after a minute of silence. “I know I was just being emotional and irrational, I just.” He laughed wetly. “I mean, I lost my three best friends in one night, the night everything was gonna change for us, man. I’m not like you, Al, not got anxiety, or anything… but… I guess that there’s nothing like an event like that to put you on edge for just about the rest of your life.” His arms tightened around Alex for a moment before he moved back. “I’m sorry - for letting that build for so long, and for bringing it up on Christmas.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit, no, Bobby… thanks for telling me. I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever </span>
  </em>
  <span>want you to think I don’t love you just as much as I love those fools upstairs. I left it so long,” Alex paused, wiping his eyes furiously, “I left it so long because I just got really scared you wouldn’t need us - wouldn’t need </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> anymore,” he admitted, voice practically a whisper. “I thought maybe you’d missed us, but, you had, you had twenty five years to recover and I thought you would’ve learned to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>Trevor. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I didn’t really see Trevor needing Alex and Reggie and Luke. Not like Bobby did.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bobby started rolling the dough out, but didn’t nudge Alex away when he practically hung off his shoulders. “I changed my name because I didn’t want anybody to lead back to you guys, I didn’t want Luke’s parents getting hounded, I didn’t want to have to relive </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything </span>
  </em>
  <span>every time a reporter wanted a bit of news, and I didn’t want </span>
  <em>
    <span>Carrie</span>
  </em>
  <span> linked to that. Just because I’ve learned to survive without you three doesn’t mean I’ve ever wanted to. I’ve got Carrie now, and she’s always going to come first, but after? It’s always been you guys. Besides, the only person close to me who’s ever called me Trevor is Ray”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex laughed weakly and grabbed the dark sugar and cinnamon. “That makes a lot of sense. Thanks… thanks for explaining that to me. I’m gonna be the best Uncle in the whole world. Except, probably bar Luke. He’s always been great with kids. And that’s just because he likes to distinguish our best friend from his boyfriend,” he confided, adding more flour to the countertop before finally pulling away. “Which is fair enough, because if my prospective boyfriend was some hotshot fancy rockstar, and my idiot kids started rambling about fool no.4, who broke my favourite son’s arm in </span>
  <em>
    <span>three </span>
  </em>
  <span>places, I would not want to reconcile those two with each other.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was </span>
  <em>
    <span>one time,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Bobby protested, flicking flour at Alex. “Let it go, already!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex yelped and ducked behind the table. “I have four scars!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, and I still have the tattoo you dared me to get!” Bobby retorted, grabbing a measuring tape to check the dough proportions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ugh, fine.” Alex peeked over the table, and once he figured it would be safe, he sat like Bobby had been earlier; legs crossed, hunched over his bowl of sugar and cinnamon as he mixed it in. “But, all I’m saying is that that tattoo was and is a look. I’m sure you got all the sex.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t even like sex,” Bobby reminded him. “So, get fucked.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex nodded. “Oh, yeah, shit, my bad. I’m sure you got all the romantic hugs. Ray is probably only with you for that tattoo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re such a little shit.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You love me,” Alex insisted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Course I do, kid.” Bobby shoved him gently. “And don’t you go doing stupid shit, like forgetting it, again.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Same goes for you.” Alex rolled his eyes, but felt himself grinning anyway. “Now just butter your fucking dough, fuckweasel.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>——-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carrie ran downstairs at exactly seven am, startling Alex out of trying to figure out what kind of word he could make with </span>
  <em>
    <span>two </span>
  </em>
  <span>Zs that would get him anywhere close to the 128 point start Willie had given himself with Muzjiks, which Alex still wasn’t convinced was even a real word. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did Uncle Alex make my-” Carrie cut herself off, looking frantically between Alex and Bobby. “Oh. My. </span>
  <em>
    <span>God.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your cinnamon rolls are on a saucer in the kitchen,” Alex said, waving. “Please never call me Uncle Alex again, I don’t like remembering I should look like </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” He waved a hand in Bobby’s direction, ignoring his indignant squawk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carrie whirled around, marching back up the stairs. “Julie!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bobby cackled, slumping against Alex. “Oh my god. I’ve done it. I’ve given myself </span>
  <em>
    <span>the </span>
  </em>
  <span>best Christmas present ever. I’m gonna ride this high for a year, at least.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Willie snorted. “Nah, the real Christmas present is gonna be Julie’s face when she realises her future step-sister is calling her </span>
  <em>
    <span>boyfriend </span>
  </em>
  <span>Uncle Luke.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Willie, my man, you are a </span>
  <em>
    <span>genius.” </span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Once again, happy holidays to everyone, I hope the new year brings us all much better luck than last year :) <br/>Kudos and comments are much appreciated if you enjoyed it :)) as always, i made a tiktok of myself baking the cinnamon rolls, so <a href="https://vm.tiktok.com/ZSWSX4yV/"> Go check it out </a><br/>You can also find me on <a href="https://maybeiwanttheoceantoburn.tumblr.com/post/623186092532924416/master-list-for-everything-ive-written-so-far">Tumblr</a> If you wanna chat about anything :))<br/></p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Merry Christmas, to those who celebrate, and to those who don’t, have an excellent holiday season otherwise :)) for context, as well as the other illnesses it symbolises, the purple ribbon (same loop shape as the breast cancer awareness ribbon) symbolises fibromyalgia, and that warrior shirt is in my Etsy basket lol<br/>Kudos and comments are much appreciated if you enjoyed it :)) as always, i made a tiktok of myself baking the sausage rolls, which really is my family’s Christmas Eve tradition, so <a href="https://vm.tiktok.com/ZSWStXDp/"> Go check it out </a><br/>You can also find me on <a href="https://maybeiwanttheoceantoburn.tumblr.com/post/623186092532924416/master-list-for-everything-ive-written-so-far">Tumblr</a> If you wanna chat about anything :))<br/></p></blockquote></div></div>
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